


Lace and Devil Horns

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Series: 50 Shades of Samifer [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom!Lucifer, Lace Panties, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Books are not the only thing that keeps Sam grounded. Sometimes they come in lace and devil horns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lace and Devil Horns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [le-bontombe](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=le-bontombe).



> **Kinks:** Panties, Fingering, Bottom!Lucifer
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

The archangel pulls his shoulders back, a pleasurable pop resounding between the space of his shoulder blades as he sinks into propped up pillows. It’s nearly ten and the archangel is busy thumbing through a book Sam has recommended to him, ending up midway through lying on his side. The blond finds that human writing is less foreboding and dry as the writing found in Heaven. Each has a unique form of symmetry and composure, something that would make Sam light up when he’d speak of it. There were even times when they’d lay in bed at night in the darkness of the room and talk of Sylvia Plath’s writing to Salman Rushdie’s use of magical realism.

Books keep Sam grounded, amongst other things, and Lucifer sees no reason why he shouldn’t share in the strengthening and building of it. It helps that he, himself, is partial to it. Of course that’s not to say he thinks humans capable sort of things. Simply that inspiration and talent that has struck humans is rare but worthy of interest. No matter the amount of time he has spent with Sam, his views remain rather stubborn and unrelenting, forever a petulant child who refuses to admit it. 

Sam slips into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him, the archangel raising his head to acknowledge the hunter’s presence. There’s a smile shared before Lucifer returns to the book while Sam crosses the room to climb onto the bed. Sam crawls over to his respected side where he’s greeted with Lucifer’s shirtless back and pajama pants. It’s loose enough where Lucifer would walk about the space occasionally having to pull the pants up, often exposing his hipbone and shear fabric underneath. 

Books are not the only thing that keeps Sam grounded. 

Wiggling on the bed until he, too, is on his side, Sam wraps his arms around Lucifer’s waist. He kisses the empty space on his back, slow and lackadaisical, often simply dragging his lips across the rise of his shoulder blades. There’s a hitch in Lucifer’s breath, the archangel’s body suddenly feigning a need for oxygen against its own violation. Sam wonders what it must feel like to have those sensitive and attuned nerves singing and bursting with reaction to the wet trail of his lips. He can only see the reactions, the way Lucifer’s feet would arch and toes stretch before curling to the way muscles twitch and shudder under Sam’s lips. 

The hunter kisses up each shoulder blade to the nape of his neck, blond hair tickling the top of his nose. Each kiss is lazily replaced with teeth, teasing little nips and when Sam gets back down to Lucifer’s back, the book now abandoned on the night stand. He can feel each vertebrate with the scrape of his teeth, hard resistance against the enamel. He bites into the skin and gives a slight pull, and the sighs twist into fuller sounds. Sam smirks into Lucifer’s back, mouth pressed against skin so he can feel it, and the archangel huffs in rebuttal. 

“I was reading, Sam,” he bites back but it’s weak in venom and saturated in need. Sam doesn’t need to sit up and peer over to see the furrow in Lucifer’s brows and his mouth incapable of being able to close shut now. How he is taking silent intakes of air and eyes are closed shut. How that muscle in his thigh can’t stop twitching.

“I saw that,” Sam chuckles into his skin, kissing the spot where he smirked into, his hand moving from Lucifer’s lower torso to slide down his side. Weathered skin and calloused palm moves down the archangel’s side to the waistband of the pajama pants. Fingers push it down enough so it can run across shear, lacy white material. Sam slides his fingers to the back of the waistband, tugging it down with hooked fingers to stare at the limited view he has of Lucifer’s backside. He could weasel his fingers under the elastic waist of the panties and run his fingers across the crack of Lucifer’s backside or reach over and palm him through the lacy fabric. Too easy, however. Too lenient. 

So instead Sam simply rubs at his hipbone to his upper thigh back up to his side. Sam bites into the skin over each vertebrate before running flat of his tongue across each ringlet of red. Lucifer’s occasional shift begins to turn into a squirm, breathing out his name before it’s becoming thick and nearly desperate for proper attention. Sam bites into Lucifer’s left shoulder blade and a hand shoots back to grab at his hip, choking out his name. The Winchester shudders at the sound, pushing himself up so he can pull Lucifer onto his back. 

Sam kisses across the contours of his side, warm lips pressed into cooled flesh. The flesh is soft around the abdomen, nicking and biting at it, adding onto the array of red and pink ringlets of teethmarks he’s been leaving on this canvas of an archangel. This being, who is now a rarity in this universe, is letting heated sounds usher out of his mouth. He’d tip his head back, halo of golden locks against the white of the pillow, and groan out his name. That stretched neck exposed, Adam’s apple bobbing to each letter _S-a-m_. It drives Sam to lift his mouth and bite it, a cold hand gripping his side as legs shift and rise underneath him. 

“Sadist,” Lucifer grumbles, the sound vibrating against Sam’s lips. Sam moves back and arches a brow, mouth into a wide and loose grin. Hands grab the waistband of the pajama pants and tug them down past his knees, the archangel kicking it off. Lucifer spreads his legs, knees bent and arousal trapped in the confines of flimsy lace. Flushed skin of his cock bleeds through the white fabric of the panties, lace trimmings bunched near the insides of Lucifer’s thighs. The archangel shifts his hips in an impatient gesture, hands fisted into the comforter in anticipation. 

Sam doesn’t know when this began to become a thing he actively invested in or how Lucifer found out in the first place. Can’t recall if it was something that happened purely by chance or if he dropped hints until the blond Devil understood. All Sam does know is that it makes heat drip and pool into the core of his being, makes his teeth itch to bite skin and his tongue curl into the roof of his mouth as if someone just offered him demon blood. An involuntary need to just gorge himself on it, the difference being Lucifer was something that didn’t come with regrets. 

Sam traces the lace about his pelvis, purposely ignoring the thick outline of Lucifer trapped in the confines of white. He slips a finger inside to run the pad of his finger across the inseam of his right thigh, the leg parting just a bit further to accompany him. Running the blunt of his fingernail across it, Lucifer gives a soft whimper. He digs the nail just a bit further and it turns throaty and rough.

“Masochist,” Sam finally gives his rebuttal and a knee knocks into his arm in return. 

Sam, finally, runs a thumb over the clothed outline of Lucifer’s cock, grazing over the damp spot when he reaches the tip. Hooking his fingers into the panties, he carefully removes the flimsy fabric. Sam runs his index finger across the tip, precum smeared even further across wet skin, Lucifer nearly writhing underneath him at these series of minuscule movements. He wants more. Needs more. Sam simply just watches him, transfixed by the, now, becomingly fussy archangel who arches his back and whines in the base of his throat for him. There are only three angels who bear their Grace after the fall of Heaven and one of them only moved like this for him. That always leaves Sam lightheaded and possessive.

Sam watches precum bead in growing drops and he swipes at it, bringing his index finger up to his mouth to slip it into his mouth. He sucks and cleans the finger and Lucifer groans as if he’s been touched. 

_“Sam.”_

The hunter sucks on his index finger until the taste of the archangel is only a sensory phenomenon barely chugging along on the back section of his taste buds. Dropping his slicked finger, he moves down to rub the pad of his finger across the archangels entrance. Lucifer stills, frigid blue eyes staring intently at Sam that he can feel his gaze give his insides frostbite, a shiver racing across his back. Sam smears his own saliva against him until the light of the room makes his skin glisten. The younger male doesn’t rush the process, something that makes the muscles in Lucifer’s thighs twitch and Sam wonders how much restraint is Lucifer using to keep his own hips from grinding down onto his lone digit. 

Lucifer remains obedient until he is easing the finger in, blue eyes sliding to a close and a hand sliding down across his belly to slide his down till fingers are but curled around his scrotum. Sam eases his index finger in until he’s knuckle deep, letting his finger slowly slide in and out to stretch the archangel. Lucifer responds by massaging sensitive skin, rubbing across the seamlike line with his thumb. 

Sam watches Lucifer’s hand drift from his scrotum up to his neglected cock, fingers wrapping around the base and giving loose pulls. The hunter watches the way his hand twists around the tip, how he tries to match the thrust of Sam’s finger. So Sam quickens his pace, listening to the breathy huff from the archangel as he matches in tow. There’s a becoming flush creeping across Lucifer’s neck and around his pelvic bone, something that urges Sam’s free hand to press into, seeing his fingerprints turn white against red.

The hunter moves himself so he can lean down and press his mouth into Lucifer’s in a deep kiss, the archangel’s mouth already willingly parted for Sam’s tongue to brush against his teeth and inside of his mouth. He greets him in turn, sucking on the hunter’s tongue before he’s forced to release him, a moan taking unbridled priority as Sam curls his finger just right. 

“Right there,” he rushes out and Sam kisses the corner of his mouth in understanding. Resting his forehead against his, Sam pushes a second finger in. It’s a rough burn and Lucifer responds by moving his legs further apart. Sam wiggles it in to join his index finger, both digits curling and pushing into him with less teasing complexity and more force. Lucifer sounds nothing but perfect when he’s wreaked, face twisted at the onslaught of pleasure and intelligible words replaced with breathy sounds that turn downright wet and full out of his throat. Sam knows everyone residing in the bunker can hear him and it only makes him push a bit harder -- a bit faster. 

Lucifer’s hand continues to jerk himself off, grip ever so slightly tightening whenever the shocks of pleasure singe and burn his nervous system. It only aids in pushing him further over the edge, nearly making him sing. Sam kisses his mouth again, sloppy this time. He bites at his lip and the fingers working him are becoming a bit more demanding and -- 

_Sam!_

Body lurches, as if it is ready to fold into itself, heels digging into the comforter as if he’s been punched in the gut. Lucifer comes with a throaty sound that’s swallowed and devoured by Sam, coming over his hand and stomach. Sam leans back to give the archangel space, watching blue eyes slowly open to look up at him. The hunter’s fingers carefully slide out of him, resting on the back of his right thigh, Sam’s smile slow and lazy.

“So, anyways, I just wanted to stop by and ask if you wanted to take a shower with me. Of course, I don’t want you to stop reading if you’re at a good spot,” Sam begins innocently, the archangel giving a disbelieving sound.

“I think I can make an exception for you just this once.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


End file.
